


Most Sincere Form Of Flattery

by indigorose50



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Established Relationship, F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Marriage Proposal, No Spoilers, Post-Time Skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:41:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24650995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigorose50/pseuds/indigorose50
Summary: Ingrid tries on Hubert's cloak in an attempt to feel confident while asking him something. This gets out of hand a little fast. It's not Bernadetta's fault.(birthday gift for Rare Pair Hell Ruler Moeblob on tumblr)
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 8
Kudos: 49





	Most Sincere Form Of Flattery

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kinda_moeblob](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinda_moeblob/gifts).



> Sometimes your friend comes up with such a great idea that you copy/paste it wholesale from the chat into your notes. Moeblob and I have many a ridiculous conversation stemming from one of our ideas, and when I heard it was gonna be their birthday I pulled this one from my google docs and brought it to life!
> 
> Happy birthday, Moeblob! O Ruler Over FETH Rarepair Hell! <3

Soft humming caught Ingrid’s ear as she walked through Garreg Mach. She followed the sound to the wall beside the fishing dock. There sat Bernadetta, a small smile on her face as she ran her needle through familiar black fabric.

Ever since being recruited to the Black Eagle house five years ago, Ingrid had been given plenty of opportunities to figure out the best way to approach Bernadetta without scaring her. She didn’t always succeed but every moment to practice was valuable. 

Ingrid stomped down the dining hall stairs to warn Bernadetta she was coming. By the time Ingrid reached the last step, Bernadetta had stopped humming. She relaxed when she spotted Ingrid. “Good afternoon,” Bernadetta greeted, voice shaking only slightly.

“Good afternoon. What are you working on?”

“Hubert tore his cloak while sparring with Shamir this morning. I was watching so I offered to fix it right away.”

Ingrid sat beside Bernadetta, letting out a huff of annoyance. “He never spars with  _ me _ . How unfair.”

“He says it would… oh how does he phrase it? It would be improper to practice fighting against the woman he’s courting.”

“Couples spar all the time in Faerghus!” Bernadetta flinched at her raised voice. Noticing this, Ingrid deflated somewhat in a sigh. “Is it really so different in Adrestia?”

Bernadetta’s face flushed. “I-I don’t really know.” She snapped her thread and held up the cloak. “What do you think?”

“I can’t tell where the rip was.”

That made Bernadetta beam. “Good! Then I’m all done!” She stood and folded the cloak neatly. Then she turned to Ingrid, looking determined. “Y-You know, sometimes, when I mend something of Hubert’s, I put it on and pretend I have even a little bit of his confidence.” She offered the cloak to Ingrid. “If… If you want, you can try the same thing and ask to spar with him?”

Ingrid stared up at her.

“O-Or! You can forget I said anything! That’s stupid, right? Wearing other people’s clothes? I don’t do that.  _ No one _ does that! Y-You can’t prove anything—”

“That’s a brilliant idea!” Ingrid jumped to her feet and grabbed the cloak. “Your secret is safe with me, Bernadetta. Thank you so much!” With a quick one armed hug to the terrified woman, Ingrid marched with a purpose towards Hubert’s office. 

Even before they began courting officially, Ingrid had never been afraid of Hubert. Her problem was not a lack of confidence, especially when he was clearly being stubborn. But perhaps wearing his cloak would lend Ingrid some of Hubert’s powers of intimidation. 

That was her thought as she ascended the stairs to the former offices of the Church of Serios. Outside Hubert’s office door, which was shut tight as always, Ingrid unraveled the cloak. Bernadetta had indeed done an excellent job; no sign of the tear anywhere. Hubert’s cloak was made of fine material and just a bit too long for Ingrid. She mentally cursed his height. Though it did make his hugs that much nicer, with Ingrid being able to tuck her head under his chin and feel secure in his embrace…

Ingrid shook her head and twirled the cloak around to drape it over her shoulders. Immediately she could understand why Hubert was so fond of it— just the weight against her back made her feel as powerful as when she was wielding a lance. Giddy, Ingrid knocked on the office door. 

“Enter.”

With more force than strictly necessary, Ingrid flung open the door and stepped inside. She held out her hand as if firing off a dark spell, put on her most sinister grin usually reserved for keeping Sylvain in line, let the cloak spin around her, and cried, “We will burn  _ together _ !” 

Hubert, sitting as his desk, stared at her, both eyebrows raised, hand frozen in the act of shuffling through a stack of papers.

Ingrid held the pose for all of a second before breaking into a giggle. “That was actually fun to say!”

“Why do you have my cloak?” Hubert asked cautiously, as if still waiting for the punchline.

“Bernadetta gave it to me. She finished mending it.”

“I see…” He continued to stare at her.

Ingrid stepped fully into the room and shut the door behind her. “We are going to talk about you not wanting to spar with me,” she said, turning back to him and crossing her arms. She didn’t plan to give up the cloak unless he asked. She was beginning to enjoy wearing it.

Hubert didn’t move for a beat. Then he stood, walked around to the other side of his desk, and sat on the edge. He too crossed his arms. “Very well. Make your case.”

* * *

“I  _ told _ you! Did I not say it was a mistake to refuse to fight a woman of Faerghus?”

“You say lots of things, Ferdinand. I have long since learned to tune some of them out.”

Ferdinand laughed. The pair were on their way towards the dining hall for dinner. Hubert had just finished recounting his day to Ferdinand— from tearing his cloak, to Ingrid’s strange way of returning it, and ending with agreeing to consider her a sparring partner moving forward. 

“Why were you so stubborn in the first place?” Ferdinand asked. “You constantly challenge us all to be the best versions of ourselves. Why not help Ingrid do the same in a way she feels accustomed?”

Hubert clutched the fabric of his cloak. The image of Ingrid standing proudly in it had yet to vanish from the front of his mind. “Is it so strange that I would not want to try and harm someone I— care deeply for?” The hesitation did not go unnoticed by Ferdinand, who elbowed Hubert with a good-natured grin. Hubert didn’t blush or anything nearly so ridiculous. But he did clear his throat and say, “Besides, not everyone has to be like yourself and Felix. We don’t need to spar every other day to express affection.”

“Now  _ that _ is unfair!” Ferdinand argued. “Those are more tradition at this point. It is thanks to our fights in school that we realized our feelings for each other in the first place.” 

Hubert sighed as Ferdinand got that look in his eye and that blush across his face. How did the both of them end up falling for people from the north? To even be courting during a war, when Hubert had duties to Her Majesty and Ingrid had to come to terms with fighting former classmates, was perhaps wildly inappropriate.

In practice, it actually struck a nice balance. Hubert found her company refreshing and comforting during their stolen calmer days. And in battle, they worked in concert to control the land and sky. 

Felix and Ferdinand made a remarkable fighting pair as well. Ferdinand had long ago traded his horse for a dancer’s uniform and, thanks to Felix’s training, had mastered the sword in addition to the lance. It was Ferdinand’s charm that spurred Felix on to fight with more ferocity than anyone the opposition could offer.

“She truly quoted you?” Ferdinand’s question cut through Hubert’s musing. 

He blinked back to himself. “Yes. It didn’t come off as intimidating as she perhaps wanted but it was… flattering nonetheless.”

Ferdinand hummed thoughtfully. “I suspect it might be. Ah!” He waved at two figures standing by the gazebo. Felix and Ingrid both turned to them, Ingrid waving back.

“You’re late,” Ingrid admonished with a playful smirk. 

“No they aren’t. You’re just hungry.” Felix sounded annoyed but he smiled softly as Ferdinand and Hubert stopped beside them. 

“Felix!” Ferdinand pulled off his bright red cape. “Would you put this on for a moment?”

Ingrid and Hubert shared a look as Felix cocked his head in confusion. “Uh, fine?” He took the cape. As he undid his own half cape, Ingrid moved to stand next to Hubert. She took his hand easily and flickered her eyes to Ferdinand. He nodded in answer to the obvious question, smirking when her eyes widened and a barely contained grin appeared. 

At last, Felix stood before them with Ferdinand’s cape on correctly. The crimson stood out against his usual blue and white ensemble. If they stuck a Golden Deer garment on him, he would look like one of Ignatz’s paint pallets. Felix put a hand on his hip. “Done. Now what?”

Ferdinand clapped his hands together. “Now, say my name!”

“... Ferdinand?”

Ingrid snorted a little laugh and let go of Hubert. “No, Felix, he means like—” She once again flung out her hand as if calling forth magic and fixed on a scowl. “I am Hubert von Vestra and I will cut a  _ bloody path _ !” 

If anything, Felix looked even more confused by this demonstration. He stared at Ingrid like she had grown an extra head. Ferdinand, on the other hand, smiled wide and gestured to Ingrid. “Exactly! Try something like that!”

The display was slightly more mortifying in public than it had been in Hubert’s office. Hubert leaned down to Ingrid’s ear. “You make me sound so theatrical, dear.”

“Have you heard yourself?”

“Careful, or I shall have to fire some of your own phrases back at you.” 

Before Ingrid could respond, Felix straightened his spine, tossed the hem of the cape so it flew out behind him, and cried, “I am Felix von Aegir and I will not back down  _ one step _ !” 

No one spoke for a moment. It wasn’t a fun moment— Ingrid looked as if she was about to explode from holding in her laughter, Ferdinand’s face was beginning to match his hair, and Hubert hoped someone was about to attack the monastery and save them all from this. 

Then it seemed to hit Felix what he had just said. In one frantic motion, he stripped off the cape and shoved it back into Ferdinand’s limp hands. “I— Uh—”

“Will you marry me?” Ferdinand said, voice cracking somewhat on the delivery. 

Felix gave a start. It seemed like his face wanted to fall into his familiar scowl but there was too much blush in the way.

Ingrid had both hands over her mouth and that was how Hubert knew it was time to go. He took her hand, gently, as he was a gentleman, and half dragged her toward the dining hall. He marched straight through and out the other side to the platform near the lake. Only then did he let go so he could cover his face with both hands. “ _ Saints _ , that was—”

Ingrid burst into laughter. She held her gut and doubled over, gasping in air. “T-That was  _ priceless _ !” She was able to say. “Did you see their faces?!”

“Why did  _ we _ have to witness that? Those two have always been ridiculous but this is a new level of absurdity.” It wasn’t often that Hubert had secondhand embarrassment but now he felt it like a stifling blanket. 

“I am  _ never _ letting Felix live that down. It’ll be good ammunition when he teases me about food.” Though her laughing had subsided, Ingrid still wore a blinding grin. She turned it on Hubert. His horror at what they had seen abated in the wake of her pure joy. If only there was a reliable way to make her this happy for all their days.

_ Her _ days, Hubert mentally corrected. He wouldn’t make Felix’s mistake of assuming too far into the future. 

“What do you think Felix will say?” Ingrid asked, looking back the way they had come.

“I would be surprised if he didn’t run away instead of answering.”

“Felix doesn’t run away from things. He fights them.”

“Then I imagine he will make Ferdinand duel him for the right to ask properly.”

Ingrid let out another giggle and cut her eyes to him. “How would you do it, then?”

“Do what?” Hubert asked innocently.

“Propose.”

Ignoring her gaze, Hubert pretended to give it some thought. “Well, I would not be so spontaneous as that.” He began. “I would plan it to the minute. And I would only do so when I was sure the question wouldn’t come as a surprise.”

Ingrid slipped her hands into his. “Oh? No drama?”

“I dare say I would try and be theatrical, if only to make the moment memorable.” Hubert finally looked down at Ingrid. Her face was dusted pink, her mirth from before still plain. “But I would want to marry the person only after it was obvious that marriage was the next step. After we had both grown into each other and accepted the other, rough edges and all. I would want us to fit seamlessly together and be untied in our hearts before asking to be united in front of our loved ones.”

Here he smiled gently, squeezing her hand. “But I haven’t considered the idea much at all.”

Ingrid snorted. “Of course. Now is not the time for such things anyway.”

“Apparently certain people disagree.”

“Well,  _ I  _ agree.” The pink was more apparent now, her smile soft and sincere. Setting sunlight highlighted her hair and made her sea green eyes shine. 

Hubert reached up his free hand to tuck a stray lock behind Ingrid’s ear, his fingers resting where her short hair touched her neck. “I shall keep that in mind.” Then he bent his head and kissed her.

Their sweet moment did not last long in the slightest. Ingrid had just put her hand on his shoulder to pull him closer when the door to the dining hall beside them burst open. “Hey guys!” Caspar shouted excitedly. “Get in here! Felix and Ferdinand swapped capes and we’re all tryin’ to decide that that means!”

“Is it being a possibility that they picked up the wrong laundry?” Came Petra’s voice from inside.

A dozen or so other voices either supported or put down this idea at once. Caspar called over his shoulder, “No way it is that simple! Not with those two!” He ducked back inside.

Ingrid sighed and pulled away from Hubert. “As usual, it looks like we have to clean up their mess.”

“I fear it’s a task that will never be over.” He tried not to be disappointed that they had to rejoin the others but it was hard with her hand still in his. It would be so easy to pull her back to him.

As if sensing his temptation, Ingrid began leading them to the door Caspar had disappeared through. She let go and fixed him with a critical look. Hubert frowned. “Yes?”

“Just wondering how you would look with a green cape. That’s all.”

“A green— Hey!” But Ingrid had already gone inside, leaving a wink in her wake.

* * *

Several days on, the Black Eagle Strike Force was mobilized to take out a sizable number of bandits. Ferdinand flitted around his tent just before the battle was to start. He checked under his bedding, the bottom of his pack, within his laundry pile; and still nothing.

“What are you doing?”

Ferdinand didn’t have to look to know Felix was standing just inside the tent. He was probably already in his battle garb and frowning at Ferdinand’s harried movements with those distracting lips of his. “I am looking for something.”

“Your weapons are out here.”

“Not those.”

“Are you looking for an elixir? I have a spare if you—”

“I am missing my cape, Felix.” Ferdinand heaved a sigh. “It is superstition only but I do not like going into a fight without it on my person.”

Dry grass crunched under Felix’s boots as he shifted behind Ferdinand. “You’re not supposed to wear your cape with your dancer outfit.”

“True, but—”

“Wear this one instead.”

Ferdinand turned in time to catch a bundle of blue fabric. Only then did he see how Felix was dressed for the battle. The bright red of Ferdinand’s cape gave Felix’s cool tones an almost fiery background. With his swords at his side and the Aegis shield in hand, Felix looked every inch a man about to find victory.

The bundle of fabric turned out to be Felix’s cape. Ferdinand unrolled it, half flattered and half perplexed. “A-at a time like this?” Ferdinand asked.

Felix shrugged, though his disinterest seemed forced. “A man makes his own good luck. So I thought this could be ours.”

Ferdinand couldn’t hold in a smile. In different circumstances, Ferdinand would have swept Felix into his arms, ignoring what would surely be halfhearted protests, and held him close to pepper his face with kisses.

But just now, there was a battle to win. Already he could hear the cavalry gathering to march. Ferdinand attached the cape, which did not match his red and white outfit at all, and met Felix by the tent flap. “I never did get a proper answer,” he said quietly. 

“You’ll get one. For now,” Felix turned and let the cape whip around him, “this is mine.”

Ferdinand chuckled, love swelling in his chest. “Very well. Then let us march.” He picked up his sword from outside the tent and brandished it with the sheath still on. He affixed what he hoped looked like a very Felix glare. “I am Ferdinand Fraldarius and I’ll  _ cut _ them down!”

There was an “ _ eep _ !” from nearby, and both Ferdinand and a red faced Felix turned to see Bernadetta, who had dropped her quiver and was staring at them. She put her hands to her cheeks. “W-why is everyone wearing each other’s clothes?! I should never have said anything to Ingrid! Ohh I just  _ know _ this is going to get me in trouble!” 

She took off. Ferdinand lowered his sword and shared a look with Felix. Felix’s confused, blushing face turning into a scowl. “That’s what you get for mimicking people! Let’s go already.”

Still mystified, Ferdinand gathered the rest of his things, dusting some imaginary dirt proudly off his borrowed cape, and marched after Felix. 


End file.
